


Her Name Means Defender

by Iron_Angel



Category: Fallout 3
Genre: Abuse, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Ghoul Sex, Hurt/Comfort, I'm Bad At Summaries, Minor Character Death, welcome to rare pair hell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-23
Updated: 2017-10-23
Packaged: 2019-01-22 01:53:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12470852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iron_Angel/pseuds/Iron_Angel
Summary: Gob is saved when the Lone Wanderer walks into Moriarty's Saloon just in time to stop the man from giving the poor ghoul a horrific beating while in a drunken rage. A good person like her, she's not going to let Gob's injuries go untended.





	Her Name Means Defender

**Author's Note:**

> [insert disclaimer here] Unbeta'd. I'll correct mistakes and typos as I find them.

While sober, Colin Moriarty was a mean, irate old bastard. When the caravans brought in the high quality whiskey, however, it was foregone conclusion that he would be a ticking time bomb before the night was out. At least he'd waited until after the saloon had emptied to go off this time.

It was barely any consolation to Gob that there wasn't anyone around to add to his humiliation by laughing as the ghoul curled in on himself, trying to keep his head down and tender parts shielded. Moriarty, drunk to the point of mindless, kept at him with the cane, whipping it across his back as he ranted on in the language Gob had never learned. He didn't even know what, if anything, he had done to spur the Irishman's wrath. He only knew that in his current state, Moriarty could easily kill him with one misaimed blow.

Please, just let it end quickly, he thought, trying to make himself as small as possible.

He was dimly aware that the door to the saloon opened, that there was a horrified gasp and a quick dash of footsteps across the floor. Then the beating suddenly stopped.

"What the hell do you think you’re doing, girl?!" he heard Moriarty shout.

Gob chanced a glance up to see a bright blue back emblazoned with the faded yellow 101 between him and his abuser. The Lone Wanderer, Alexandra -- or Lex, as she preferred to be called -- had grabbed the end of the cane and was holding it fast, preventing Moriarty from swinging it either forward or back.

"Stop it! You'll kill him!" she cried.

"Fucking zombie--" He switched back into his native tongue as he continued, trying to wrest the cane free of her grip. Either Lex was much stronger than her petite body looked or Moriarty was a lot drunker than his ability to stay vertical suggested. Either way, the cane was going nowhere.

"Please, Mr. Moriarty, whatever he's done to make you so angry, he's been hurt enough," she said, trying to sound reasonable. "He could even die from these injuries."

Gob blinked. Yes, there was quite a bit of damage and he hurt like hell, but die? He wasn't sure he was that far gone. What was she doing?

"If he dies, you're out a barman," she continued. "I doubt you can hire another as cheap."

Whatever she was doing, it was working against the greedy saloon owner. Moriarty's stance was relaxing, and he didn't resist as she used her free hand to unclench his fist from the cane handle.

Her voice got lower, more soothing. "How about you go ahead to bed and sleep this off? Let me take Gob for a little bit. I'll patch him up for _free_ \--" She put special emphasis on the word. "--and he'll be right as rain to start work tomorrow morning, without even a limp or a wince."

She had the cane away from him, but Moriarty wasn't looking completely convinced.

"Remember, I'm a doctor's daughter. I've been well trained. Please, let me do this?"

To Gob's utter amazement, the old man finally nodded. "Fine, take the lazy shambler. But I'll hold you to that promise, girlie. Not a limp or a wince, or I'll next take to _you_ with the stick."

As if to seal the deal, Lex handed the cane back to him. Then she turned and -- his heart nearly stopped -- bent to pull one of Gob's arms over her shoulder to help him up and lead him outside.

Several more foreign words were snarled at them before the door closed, but Gob could care less as he stared down at the girl who was so unabashedly supporting him against her. Once away from Moriarty's prying eyes and ears, she looked up at him with those large, dark eyes.  
  
Up. Because she was tucked snugly under his arm. Like a...

In his mind, he pretended for a moment he wasn't hurt; that she wasn't merely fulfilling the role of both doctor and nurse.

She had the small frame common among all vault-dwellers, but she was only a couple inches shorter than him. Fine-featured, in the dark of night lit only by a half moon, she looked... well, "otherworldly" was the best word he could think of, her skin glowing like a beacon. Pixieish, maybe?

She had the ruddy color of dust and sunburn these days, but a life completely underground made her so pale as to appear pure white the first time he'd met her. She had been so scared and alone back then; a stranger in a completely alien world. One look at her and he'd immediately pegged her for fresh out of the vault. But even though he knew she'd probably scream in terror at the sight of him, she was pretty enough for him to risk trying to talk to her at least once. Her eyes had widened momentarily in alarm and she'd been a little too forward in asking how he'd "gotten hurt," but she didn't scream. She was even nice to him.

And she never stopped being nice to him. She always greeted him with warm words when she came into the saloon. Always smiled at him when he would accidentally-on-purpose bump her hand as he passed her a Nuka Cola. She even held his hand steady so as not to spill them when she dropped the requisite caps into his open palm.

Nova would, on rare occasions, pat him on the shoulder or nudge him with an elbow. It was the friendliest contact he got back then, and he knew his mind twisted it into an unrequited affection for the prostitute. Lex, however, touched him almost brazenly, like him being a ghoul never bothered her one bit. If he were honest with himself, he would have to admit it was because of this that he had stopped looking at Nova and started looking at Lex long before Three Dog began singing the now-famous Lone Wanderer's praises.

"Radiation heals ghouls, right?" she asked, snapping him back to reality.

"Something like that, yeah," he rasped, then grimaced as she shuffled him toward the steps to the ramps leading down into the crater. "Where you taking me, smoothskin?" Didn't matter. He'd go where ever she lead him.

"Down next to the bomb," she explained, trying her best not to jostle him too much as they descended the ramp next to Craterside Supply. "Even though it's not live anymore, it still puts off a lot of rads."

He stopped just as they passed the clinic, looking down at her again, incredulous. "I appreciate the thought, kid, but I'm not willing to risk you getting poisoned just to help me out."

She shook her head and tugged at him, trying to get him moving again. "I'll be fine. Now, come on."

He planted his feet. "Not happening, smoothskin." He could be stubborn when he wanted to be. He may be beaten down, but he wasn't broken yet.

She turned on him, wide-eyed, in surprise. "Gob, please--"

"No."

She heaved a rough sigh, looking away for a moment, thinking. Then she rolled her eyes and made a _tsk_ sound. "Will you stop fighting me on this if I take some Rad-X?"

She would waste her survival chems to help him? But he could slip her some from Moriarty's stock later, he reasoned. With Craterside and the clinic as competition, chems weren't Moriarty's main concern or source of income; he wouldn't miss a pill or two if it somehow went missing.

"All right."

She looked relieved.

"If you take it now."

She frowned slightly, and he knew he'd caught her planning to _forget_ about it when they got to the crater pool. Sighing again, she made a show of digging a bottle out of her belt pouch, tapping out a pill and placing it on her tongue -- not so subtly sticking it out at him -- and swallowing it. "Happy?"

"Yes."

Stowing the bottle, she readjusted her hold on him and, this time, he moved when she pulled him forward.

When they reached the bottom of the crater, she waded into the the knee deep pool of cloudy green water with him, helping him to sit with his back against the hull of the deactivated bomb. He expected her to leave him there or climb back out of the pool at least. Instead, she knelt down in front of him and pulled his soaked bar towel -- he'd forgotten the damned thing before half-submerging himself in the water -- from his belt loop, ringing it out a little, and began dabbing at the blood he hadn't realized was seeping from his split lip.

He didn't know what to say or do, so he did nothing as he watched her with bemusement as she continued to fuss over him. He hissed softly when she curled a finger of her free hand under his chin to tilt his face up more, causing her wince in misguided sympathy. It was not at all from pain.

"Sorry," she whispered. "I wish I had a light." Then she made that _tsk_ sound again. "Oh, I'm a dummy." There was a click and then her Pip-Boy lit up, casting everything in a hazy glow.

Gob managed to not make a sound as she cupped his cheek, leaning in to get a closer look.

"That bastard did a real number on you," she growled, dipping the cloth into the water and pressing it gently to cut between his temple and ear. She grumbled out something else about injustice and someone doing something, but he didn't hear it, lost in his thoughts and the feel of skin-to-skin contact.

Part of him marvelled at her intuitiveness; having been a ghoul for years, he'd never thought about using irradiated water to tend his injuries. If he would have known how soothing it was against his cuts and, yes, even his bruises felt better, he would've done this from the beginning.

Another, larger part of him was amazed by _her_. From Three Dog's broadcasts to random caravaners' gossip, the Lone Wanderer's reputation for being helpful and kind was almost legendary. As long as they weren't shooting at her, Lex treated everyone diplomatically, even friendly. She definitely treated him as a friend, and he readily thought of her as the same. But God help him, at that moment it felt like something more with her being so close, touching him so tenderly.

He cursed himself for a fool for breaking the moment, but he _had_ to know.

"Lex..." He never called her by her name. She jumped slightly at the sound of it, eyes shifting to meet his. "Why are you doing this? Why are you helping me?"

She turned her attention back to his wounds. He suspected it was to more to give her hands something to do rather than him actually needing it at this point. "I help everyone. It's what I do."

He must have a concussion, because he'd normally never be so bold. He reached up and lightly grabbed her wrist. "Could've just taken Mr. Moriarty's stick and left me behind in the bar," he pointed out. "Could've just dropped me off in the pool and let the rads do all the work. Instead, you're right here in the muck with me, doing this." He turned her hand slightly to indicate the cloth. "Why?"

It felt a lot like being zapped with electricity when her hand on his face moved, her fingers sliding over his jaw and her thumb stroking along his cheekbone. "Because I like you," she shrugged, trying to sound flippant and falling short. Charismatic and persuasive, yes, but lousy at lying.

He had to be concussed, he thought to himself. Or just really stupid. Either way, he was too overwhelmed by the feeling of desire that flared from a glowing ember into a roaring fire at her quiet admission.

He slid his other hand around the back of her neck and pulled her closer. Maybe it was just shock on her part, but she didn't resist as he pressed his ruined lips to hers in a soft, chaste kiss.

Funny how time can be both an eternity and not nearly long enough in the same moment.

The sound of the cloth splashing into the water broke silence of the night and brought the world crashing back into place.

Realizing what he'd just done, Gob jerked back, snatching his hands away from the vault-dweller as if he'd been burned. "I-I'm sorry!" he gasped, bringing a shaky hand up to cover his mouth, his lips tingling. God, it only been a little peck! "That was-- I mean-- It--"

It was wrong! He'd gotten carried away and he'd crossed the line, he was sure of it. And now he was afraid to even look at her. Afraid to see her normally warm face twisted in revulsion at having been kissed by a ghoul. He clenched his fists at his sides, lowered his gaze to the water between them, and waited for the cry of disgust. Or maybe a slap across the face. He deserved that.

"G-Gob?"

He didn't want to look, but her voice was so quiet and... confused?... that he couldn't stop his treacherous eyes from returning to hers.

Was she... blushing?

"I'm sorry," he repeated, not knowing what else to say.

"Don't be," she said softly.

Not half an hour ago, he'd gotten his bell rung by an enraged, whiskey-fueled Irishman with a stick, but even that was nothing compared to the sudden dizziness he felt as he stared at the young woman before him. Instead of looking angry or distressed or disgusted, she looked... shy. But she was also smiling. His mind was having difficulty processing it.

"I really like you, Gob," she continued.

His chest felt tight and he couldn't look away.

"Please, would you kiss me again?"

Forget concussed. He had to be dreaming. Or maybe this is what the mind did to a person when knocked unconscious. He didn't know. But if it was a dream, would it be so bad to indulge a little in the fantasy? Would it be so wrong to take just a little bit more?

Pushing himself up onto his knees, he wrapped his arms around her and drew her close. He brushed his lips against hers tentatively, both enjoying their softness and giving her a chance to pull away again, before capturing them in a firmer kiss.

Maybe he was being too eager, but instead of pulling back, Lex seemed to melt into him. Her hands slid over his back, gripping fistfuls of his wet shirt. Moaning out a quiet little sound, she surprised him further by parting her lips and letting him slip his tongue in to caress her own. Sweeter than Nuka Cola.

He wanted more. Oh god, he wanted more. More of her touch, of her taste. This would have to be enough, he realized as he reluctantly broke the kiss. Please, just one more moment, he thought as he pressed his forehead to hers, committing the feel of her body against his to memory. Small, but solid. Her hands, a little chilly, against his shoulder blades. Her slightly faster than usual breathing pushing her chest against his. Her subtle tremble.

Damn it, that wasn't just from the embrace. He pulled back to look her in the eye. "The Rad-X is wearing off," he warned.

"I'll be okay." Her arms tightened around him, and he was almost ready to let her stay where she was as long as she continued to hold him like this.

He stood, taking her with him, and climbed out of the pool. Not only had the radiation soothed his pain, it seemed to have revitalized him as well. He'd have to remember that and try to regularly sneak down to the bomb when Moriarty was asleep if he could.

Setting her down on dry land, he detached himself from her hold -- probably the hardest thing he'd ever done. "Thank you for... for taking care of me," he said, bringing her hand up to kiss it. He was being greedy, stealing _just one more moment_ , but he couldn't help it. "You should go home and get out of those wet clothes--" Don't think about that mental image. "--before you get sick."

She might as well have hit him with a sledgehammer when she threaded her fingers through his and smiled, just shy of devious. "Will you come up with me? You should get out of your wet clothes, too."

He had several arguments to that: Ghouls didn't catch colds. Radiation doesn't make ghouls sick. Irradiated water actually feels warm to ghouls. A smoothskin shouldn't invite a ghoul in their house alone. _Lex_ shouldn't invite _Gob_ into her house alone with that kind of smile on her face and those kind of images swirling in his head.

She gave a gentle tug of his hand, and all of the reasons not to follow her blew away with a puff of night breeze.

"Okay."

She had made good on her promise to Moriarty. Gob didn't limp or wince once as they climbed the steep incline to her house far up the crater's edge. He was caught in that weird, dream-like state of disbelief again as it seemed like he had merely blinked and he was suddenly inside her (incredibly tidy) home.

When the door had closed behind them, what had at first appeared to be a deactivated Mr. Handy sitting in a corner next to the door extended one eyestalk toward them. "Good evening, madame," it said, sounding for all the world like it was only half awake. The eye shifted toward Gob momentarily, it's iris narrowing. "And... guest. What can I do for you?" In an almost inaudible whisper, it added, "Nothing, I hope."

"It's okay, Wadsworth, go back to sleep," Lex whispered back, and the eyestalk promptly folded back into place.

Gob hated himself that that had been enough of a distraction to allow his insecurities to come rushing back. It kept him frozen in place as she made for the stairs leading up to what he assumed was her bedroom, causing her to turn back to him with a confused frown.

"Second thoughts?" Was that disappointment in her voice?

"What are we... What am _I_ doing here, smoothskin?" He couldn't say her name and not sound hopeful, so he didn't. Hope was a terrible thing for someone like him, and he learned not to trust it a long time ago. He didn't want to feel it and then be hurt by it the next moment when this all proved to be a sick cosmic joke.

He hated himself even more as her frown deepened. "I thought, if I invited you up to my room..." she began, suddenly looking uncertain. "The way you kissed me... I wanted..." She took a deep breath. "Did I misunderstand?"

He finally managed to make his feet move, coming to stand at the bottom of the steps and looking up at her. "No, you didn't." He wanted to hold her hand again; just one more touch before he ruined this completely. His hands stayed firmly at his sides. "But I'm a ghoul. No one wants to... to..." Coward. He couldn't even say it. "Not with something that looks like a walking corpse," he bit out, looking away.

Just as he was trying to decide how best to leave -- mutter a polite good night and walk out or simply run like a bat out of hell -- her hands were on his face again, cupping it between them as her thumbs brushed over the sensitive exposed muscle in the gaps of his skin. He looked up at her, and he knew he would be forever helpless against those soulful eyes.

"How many times do I have to say it?" she sighed. "I _like_ you, Gob. You're the first person who was truly nice to me when I came out of the Vault. No one but you has been as sweet or as kind to me without trying to get me killed in some way."

He felt spark of anger that, if that and all those stories from Three Dog were true, the people of the Wasteland didn't deserve her.

"I've learned the hard way that no matter what I do or how hard I try, I could lose everything and everyone I care about tomorrow, or the next day, or the next. There is no promise for the future. If the sun doesn't rise in the morning, I want to have at least this one night with you, Gob." She lifted a hand to ever-so-lightly brush a finger along the sparse fringe of his hair. "So will you come upstairs with me?"

She made it sound so rational, but he didn't care about rationale right now. She said she _wanted_ again. She had asked him, _invited_ him, again. From that look of hopeful expectation on her face, he would be more than just a fool to walk away; he would be a heartless bastard.

It felt as if she barely weighed a thing as he grabbed her by the hips and lifted her up to wrap her legs around his waist, carrying her up the stairs while she sighed happily and nuzzled against his jaw. Lucky guess, he had assumed the open of the two doors would lead to her bedroom. Carrying her inside, he set her back on her feet next to the bed, stopping to briefly kiss her again before helping her out of her partially soaked vault suit and boots. He only had a few seconds to feel self-conscious about the state of his ravaged body as she returned the favor before she was sliding back onto the mattress and pulling him down with her.

The feel of her skin against his was almost too overwhelming. If her gentle touches had been like electricity, this was being struck by lightning. So soft and warm, he wanted to keep running his fingers over every bit of her as he kissed from her lips, down her neck, and lower until her came to her breasts. Like the rest of her, they were small, but enough to fill his hand as he cupped one and traced his tongue over the pert nipple.

"Ah! Gob, _ooh_ ," she whimpered, clutching the back of his head and bringing her legs back around his waist as he repeated the motion with her other breast.

The heat of her core suddenly right there against him was searing, and he felt himself harden to full mast almost embarrassingly quick. When she felt it, too, she reached between them with her free hand and gave him a careful but firm stroke, causing him to suck in a harsh breath. It felt so good. Too good.

"S-smoothsk-- Lex... Alexandra-ah! Slow d-down," he pleaded. "It's been too long... I don't think I'll last like that." He removed her hand and brought it and the one at his head up over hers, pinning them. He marvelled at the flush of pink on her cheeks and lips as she gazed up at him, eyes dark with lust answering his own. Beautiful. "You said no promises for the future. If this is our only night, I want to make it as good as I can for you. For you to enjoy it, too."

Releasing her, he sat back on his knees, skimming his hands down her sides. She squirmed slightly at the ticklish feeling, and the temptation to dig his fingers into her ribs to make her giggle and squeal was strong. He understood what she had meant, but he sincerely hoped this wouldn't be their only night. That there would be more tomorrows that maybe he could touch and tickle her breathless.

Worry about tomorrow when tomorrow comes, he reminded himself.

He slid his hands over her hips, down and back up her inner thighs, squeezing the taut muscles gently. She went practically boneless. "Oh, that's good," she moaned, closing her eyes. "I really like the way your hands feel on me."

He did something then that he hadn't done in what felt like a lifetime: He grinned. "If you like that, then you love this." Pushing her legs apart when one hand, he ran the thumb of the other between her folds, up and down until he found her clit, giving it a circular rub.

"Oh my god!" Her hands slammed down at her sides, fingers digging into the mattress batting as her hips bucked. "Oh my god, Gob!"

He spared a thought for the volume of her voice and bent to kiss her quiet as he continued to torture the little nub. Her arms locked around his back, her nails like pinpricks of sweet pain along his spine, as a few moments later he slid a finger into her opening and began pumping it in and out. He doubted she was a virgin, but he was almost certain by the way she writhed against his hand that few, if any, of her past lovers had been courteous enough to do this. Or, he thought smugly, that they had been as good as he was at it. He was proud that even with decades of forced abstinence, he still had some of his talents from his pre-ghoul life.

As he felt the beginnings of her inner muscles clenching around his finger, he crooked it and pressed against the spot inside of her that made her head jerk back with a sharp cry. If he had thought her beautiful before, it was trifling compared how she looked now clinging to him as she came.

His cock throbbed at the sight, and he suddenly couldn't bear to wait any longer. Between kisses along her jaw and throat, he groaned, "Please, Lex, I want to be inside of you."

With a frantic nod and a breathy "Yes," he withdrew his hand, making her whine at the loss. It was only for the briefest moment as he guided his length into her. She gasped and arched as he slid in easily to the hilt, and it took him half a minute and several deep breaths not to come right then.

She didn't make it any easier as she began to shift impatiently under him. "Gob, please!" She grabbed him by the hips and pushed up with hers. "Start moving!"

He hoped she couldn't feel his smile against her shoulder. As the lady commands, he inwardly chuckled.

He pulled back a few inches then pushed in again, and coherent thought left him as a completely different moan left her lips. He tried to match the rhythm she seemed to be working towards, but he was too far gone with that wonderful sound. He wanted her to make it again. Wrapping his arms around her, he held her tight and buried his face into the side of neck as he thrust into her. Please make it again.

She did. And again. And again.

Then she keened and went rigid beneath him. There was no way he could resist his own orgasm as she clamped down around him. He hadn't asked permission and was pretty much incapable of doing so. So at the last possible second, he pulled out, coming on her stomach.

Collapsing onto his side next to her, he panted, "I'm... sorry."

Just as breathless, she shook her head, looking over at him. "Don't... be. Never... have to be... with me."

They closed their eyes and laid like that for an uncounted number of minutes, hands linked together on the mattress between them.

Gob had almost drifted off to sleep when he felt her sit up and climb off the bed. Panicking just a little, he was about to ask where she was going when he noticed she was moving to a makeshift wash basin on the room's desk. Taking a scrap of material cut to the size of a washcloth, she dipped it into the water and wrung it out before scrubbing her face, then at the mess on her lower abdomen. Cleaned, she dropped the cloth in the pile of their discarded clothes and crawled back into bed, snuggling up against him.

"I'm not being too presumptuous in wanting you to stay for the rest of the night, am I?" she murmured against his chest.

He knew he probably should be getting back to the saloon soon. Moriarty was likely to take after him with the cane again if he didn't have the inventory stocked _just so_ come opening time. At least with a hangover as bad as Gob predicted the old man would have, any beating would be short-lived and quarter strength.

And if he was going to get one anyway, he might as well stay until morning, right?

He wrapped his arms around her again and kissed her forehead. "Not at all."

~

Gob sat bolt upright. It was rare for him to sleep so soundly, but he knew when he did, he was in for one hell of a flogging.

Jumping up and casting his eyes around for his clothes -- they weren't in their usual spot under his pillow -- he suddenly realized he wasn't in his own bed. He wasn't even in the saloon. And while he was thrilled to know that he hadn't actually dreamed of making love to Lex, he was both perplexed by her absence and damn near in hysterics as he noticed the sunlight poking through the sheet metal ceiling.

Moriarty was going to kill him.

Lex's face contorted in ecstasy beneath him flashed in his mind's eye.

He could die happy with that as his last thought.

He didn't want it to be today, though. He wanted more of Lex, and that unpromised future, and the tomorrows with all those maybes.

Where were his goddamned clothes?!

"Good morning, sir!" the Mr. Handy chirped boisterously, hovering in the doorway.

It was too big to come into the room, so it extended an arm as far as it could toward him instead. There were his clothes! And... cleaned? Gob snatched them up and began dressing as fast as he could.

The robot couldn't care less for his brusqueness, continuing on just as cheerily, "Madame wishes me to extend her apologies for her abrupt departure this morning and inform you that she wishes to see you again once she returns from attending to her out of town business."

"If there's anything left to see after Moriarty finishes with me," the ghoul grumbled, hopping on one foot as he wrestled with his boot.

"Very good, sir!"

Finally dressed, Gob grunted and pushed past the robot, taking the stairs down two at a time. Exiting the house, he realized that it wasn't quite as late in the morning at he'd thought, but it didn't really matter. Sun up still damned him. He took off at a run up the catwalks around the crater's edge.

Oh _shit_!

There was a crowd outside of the saloon.

Oh god, Moriarty really _would_ kill him now, what with all these customers waiting for him to open!

He was pondering which would be the quicker death, him facing the Irishman or trying to flee Megaton altogether, when one of the patrons turned and noticed him. "Hey! There's the barman!"

The crowd's heads turned as one to look at him and the muttering became louder.

"Where has he been?"

"Do you think he did this?"

"How? He came up from the other side of the crater, looks like."

"Move aside!" That was Nova's voice. The crowd shuffled to let her through and she ran to him. He tried not to feel bitter at her stopping short of touching him. "Gob! Oh god, where have you been?!" She looked both relieved, yet troubled.

He glanced up at the curious onlookers before looking down at her, answering in a hushed whisper for only her to hear, "I, uh, spent the night with Lex." Lex didn't need the social stigma of everyone in town knowing she'd slept with him. A little louder, he asked, "What the hell is going on here? Surely Moriarty would have opened the saloon even if I wasn't back yet."

"See? He wasn't around when it happened," a bystander said.

Nova grimaced. "Moriarty is dead, Gob." At his shocked expression, she pressed on, "Fell over the balcony and broke his neck, as far as Doc Church can tell. Too drunk to even scream. The body still reeks of alcohol."

Could it be as easy as that? Years of waiting and wishing for the vile bastard to up and die, and he goes over the edge the one night Gob isn't there to pour him into bed after a drunken bender?

"Asshole had it comin' to him," another of the crowd said flatly.

"But who's going to run the saloon now? The whore?"

Gob bristled; he didn't begrudge Nova her profession, but he still didn't like it when people called her that.

"Why not the ghoul? He's practically run the thing by himself since ol' Colin acquired him."

"I think he should," Nove agreed, turning back to everyone. "He knows how. And he's always done right by you lot, not hiking the prices like Moriarty did when he got dirt on you." She glanced over her shoulder at him. "That is, if you want to, Gob. We're free now. You don't have to stay here anymore if you don't want to. You could even go back to Underworld."

Free...

Just the thought of it made him giddy and his head swim. He _could_ go back to Underworld and to his mothers. Well, Carol at least would be happy to see him; Greta maybe not as much. It would be a dangerous trek, though. Lex was a good gun. Maybe he could talk her into traveling with him.

Lex.

If he left, he would be leaving her behind. She did visit Underworld from time to time when she had reason to, but she lived here in Megaton. If he stayed, he would see her more often. He could even spend more nights with her, if she wanted.

"Town needs a saloon, and a saloon needs a barman," he shrugged, knowing Nova would see right through his nonchalant tone. "I'll stay."

~

Two weeks later, Gob's Saloon was thriving.

Gob, however, was not.

Lex had spent longer lengths of time away from Megaton before and, yes, he had missed her a lot back then, too. That was before he'd known exactly _what_ he'd been missing. She'd left the message with her robot butler that she had wanted to see him again. He dearly hoped that it meant all that it implied. Even if it didn't, he still wanted her back home and safe.

It made things worse that Three Dog hadn't given any new radio announcements about what she might be doing out in the Wasteland as per the usual.

For two solid weeks, the Lone Wanderer seemed to have dropped off the face of the Earth.

"Hey, Gob, it's past last call," Nova said as she poked her head out the front door of the saloon. "I'm going to close up shop now."

The ghoul grunted in acknowledgement, continuing to smoke his cigarette and stare up at the stars. He still couldn't believe his luck. Moriarty had fallen to his death from this spot and the bastard's 'empire' was now his. Gob had gone from a punching bag to the wealthiest man in the settlement.

He would give it all up to have Lex right now.

A hand gripped his belt and suddenly he was being yanked backwards.

"Wha--" he choked out, turning his head.

"Not a good idea to stand so close to the edge like that," Lex hissed, staring up at him, wide-eyed.

She was here! When had she gotten back? He hadn't seen any movement at all on the catwalks. How did she sneak up on him like that? She looked so pale, even in the moonlight. Why did she look so afraid?

"Smoothsk-- ah, Lex!" He turned and flung his arms around her, pulling her into a hug.

For a moment, he forgot himself and where they were and pressed a kiss to her lips. Before he could properly panic and jerk back, though, she locked a hand around the back of his neck and held him in place until she broke the kiss herself. It made his heart soar.

"I've been worried about you. Where have you been?" There were a dozen more questions he wanted to ask, but he whispered, "I missed you," and lowered his forehead to hers.

Her eyes slipped closed. "I missed you, too, Gob." Instead of answering him, she pulled back and made a nodding gesture upwards. "I like the new sign. The yellow looks especially good."

So she'd noticed. If he could blush, he would. "It, uh.... reminded me of you," he said, reaching up to run a finger along the embroidered 101 on her collar. It was the best he could do at the time. Other than vault suits, blue was virtually extinct in the Capital Wasteland. Then he remembered; having left beforehand, she wouldn't know about what had happened. "Moriarty is dead, so the saloon is mine now."

She looked... disturbed? "They didn't try to blame you, did they?" she asked hurriedly, catching his hand in a hard grip.

Something about that question felt off to him. Did she somehow think he was capable of killing the old man?

He shook his head. "No. They said he fell that night we-- er, that night he got too drunk and you had to save me from him." She suddenly looked haunted and the nonexistent hairs on the back of his neck stood up. "...Doc Church said it was a broken neck that killed him."

Lex was a lousy liar and a worse poker face.

Gob sure as hell wasn't anything at all like a great detective or even a mediocre one, but over the past several days, some of Nova's musings had brought up a few questions. Like how had Moriarty managed to fall from the balcony he spent a vast majority of his waking hours standing on, taking prolonged smoke breaks and snooping on citizens? He probably knew it better than the inside of his own bar. Drunks occasionally fell off of it when stumbling out of the saloon; a few broken limbs or digits, but most none the worse for wear. What were the odds of someone landing just right (or wrong) to break their neck?

The people of Megaton seemed satisfied that dead was dead and the Irishman had been long overdue for his wooden box. The saloon did it's job and the settlement continued on pretty much as it had always done. Gob indulged Nova's speculations and never voiced any of his own. And... he wasn't going to speak to Lex anymore about the matter, he decided.

"Anyway, what matters is I'm free," he smiled, "and I finally found the fortune I left Underworld for."

She let out a breath and returned the smile. He liked that look a lot better. "So, does this mean no more secret discounts for me at the bar?" she asked.

He chuckled, reaching out to cup her cheek. "The new owner might have a word or two to say about it, but for you, I'll continue to risk it."

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading.


End file.
